


Little Brother

by TheodoreAurore



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheodoreAurore/pseuds/TheodoreAurore
Summary: The grief did not yield.
Relationships: Ayrenn Aldmeri & Naemon (Elder Scrolls)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Little Brother

He was younger. She was younger. Life was not simple, for it never was, but in the moment? Life was okay.

She was running around the gardens, friendly bees chasing after her pale, windswept hair. How old was she? She didn’t know, but she could see that she was small, small enough that the flowers still climbed high above her, like the towers that touched the skies in Alinor. Yet, another walked in the grass, and in comparison to him? 

(She was big.)

He was little. Little little little… and he was _not_ supposed to be here, was he? Something about mother or father saying he was sick, or that he needed to study? Had he misbehaved? She didn’t dwell on the thought long before—

A prickle on her neck alerted her to the presence of someone taller. She tried to discern who it was, but the face was too distant, too bright to look up at in the sun lit fog. Rays of light darted within the mist, forcing her to shield her eyes as she ran from the tall figure, and off to find her brother, squealing his name into the unknown. 

She was frantic, she was _frantic_ and she didn’t know why. Wasn’t her little brother just here a moment ago? Where did he go? Where was he now? She didn’t want to be punished for breaking the rules, no, no no no. She darted around the garden, and turned another corner in the maze of flowers, ready to scream his name again, but instead—

There he was. Standing right there. Smiling, happy, okay. 

She pulled him in for a tight hug, and when she started crying, she didn’t know why.

When she pulled away from the hug, they were in a quiet corner of the library. Yet this time, her tears were gone. Tears slid down her brother’s face instead, and she didn’t know why.

(She was still taller.)

 _“Don’t cry, little brother. It was my fault.”_ What was her fault? What had she done? _“I should have protected you.”_ Protect him from what? Despite the blissful silence in the air (save her words and his choked back tears), she felt unsettled. A pit in her stomach, something wasn’t _right_. 

Still, she wiped a tear from her brother’s cheek as her brows drew in. Yet ( _yet yet yet_ ) he shied away from her touch, drew back, turned away.

 _“Come back, I-”_ Words of apology were caught in her throat. And although she reached out to grab her brother—to grab her little brother dearest—she did not pursue him.

He disappeared into the fog, and with him leaving, came the fall of the library walls around her. Books came crashing down, down, down, and she set them all ablaze.

When the ashes settled, she was clear of head, of mind, yet not of soul. She held her head higher, and at the same time, she felt heavier than ever. Was it the armor that now weighed on her shoulders? Or the burden of war? Of leadership? People slowly streamed in from the mist, and soon she was surrounded by blurry faces of non-importance. Where was her mother? Her father? Her _brother_?

 _“_ ** _Naemon_** _!”_ she shouted over the indistinct chatter of people she did not know, _“Naemon! Where are you?!”_

Despite her screams, and her disturbance of the party, the event, the celebration of _whatever_ it was, nobody paid her any mind as she pushed her way through the crowd. The most visible in the mass of people, yet somehow, completely unnoticed. How could she lose him again? Did she not learn the first time? 

A hand rested itself on her shoulder, steady and affirmative. Quickly turning, she was greeted by the cold glare of her brother.

(They met eye to eye now, but somehow, she felt as if he wasn’t looking at her. Looking through her. She was still invisible.)

Impassive words bit through the dense air, as he continued to look as her, the sister-stranger, _“You should return to your duties,_ Queen _."_

Oh. Of course. Of course, of course.

_“_ **_Ayrenn_ ** _? Are you listening?”_

_“Of course I am. Where had you gone? The celebration is half the fun without you.”_

_“Estre was feeling unwell. I left to see her off early.”_

_“Well, do send her my regards. I hope it isn’t anything too serious.”_

_“I doubt it. The event simply wasn’t her scene. She’ll be fine come morning.”_

_“Ah. I’m glad you decided to stay, nevertheless.”_

He only nodded impassively, and disappeared back into the crowd, the fog. Out of her grasp, where she could not guarantee his safety. 

Was that how siblings talked to each other? Was that… normal? She was unsure. It had been… _so long_. Her mind was filled with muddled memories, of maroon maples, of magenta magic, of mourning moonlight. The past only paved the way to future pain.

Despite everything, she still felt lighter than when the night began. Naemon was not in her direct view or control, no, but at least she knew he was still _here_. Their siblingship may never return to what it once was, with untreated broken bones healing crooked, but they were still family. He was still her brother. She was still his sister. 

With one last glance, she tried to catch a fleeting image of her brother among the partygoers, but failed. The crowd only doubled, tripled, until she, too, was swallowed into the unknown. With eyes shut tight, she braced herself for the darkness.

_“Hello Ayrenn.”_

She opened her eyes again, and found herself shivering. This was not right, but Naemon was here, so maybe it was.

_“Do you wish to talk, brother?”_

He sighed. Deep, mournful, empty, _“If that’s what you want.”_

 _“Of course it is. I don’t think we’ve talked enough recently.”_ A memory unveiled itself; it was sharp as betrayal, and hot as Oblivion. _“I’m… sorry. About Estre. She did not leave us any choice.”_

 _“I know.”_ He laughed, but it was wrong, it was all wrong wrong _wrong_ and hollow and _cold_. _“It didn’t make a grieving man any less enraged.”_

_“I’m sorry… about the throne too. It wasn’t my intention to make all your work obsolete. I was just doing what I believed was best for our people.”_

_“I figured as well.”_

She huffed, and saw her breath in front of her. Summerset was not this frigid. Her brother was not this transparent. Everything was ice. _Everything was nice._

 _“Are you going to be alright?”_ he ended up asking. 

_“I have to be, don’t I?”_

Another memory surfaced. Of her veins frozen, the words on her tongue twisted truths, of shock knifed into her lungs until she couldn’t breathe—

She did not fear death: she feared those close to her dying.

She was crying. She was crying, she was _crying_ because Naemon was _back_ , wasn’t he? He was back, and he was here! Here, here here _here_.

_“Where did you go this time? I’ve been worried ill, you know.”_

He looked at her oddly. _“It’s not like I can leave.”_ He shrugged, and glanced around, but her eyes stayed fixated on him (just in case he would leave again. She wanted every memory, clear and true, here and now). _“I should be the one asking you why you’re here.”_

She didn’t know where she was. Why did that matter to him? They were together. That was all that mattered.

(He finally saw her. And she finally saw him.)

She didn’t bother waiting a second longer, and pulled him in for a hug.

Was this the last time, truly? Why couldn’t she stop crying?

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, little brother. I’m sorry for everything.”_

He held her tighter, but he did not accept her apologies.

Time passed as they held each other. Time passed, and she did not want it too. If she could stop time, in this one moment (it was cold, bitter and sweet, but it was okay, she could live with that as long as Naemon was living as well), she would. She would stop it all, the fighting and the war, the invasions and the betrayals, the politics and the scheming, the growth and the evolution, the pain and the sorrow, the joy and the love, _she would stop it all_.

She would stop it all for one more moment with her brother.

_“I love you, Naemon.”_

A beat. Two. Three.

_“I love you, too.”_

If tears fell down her face, he did not mention it.

_“Ayrenn. This place isn’t for you. It’s time you leave.”_

She tried to hold onto him, but the tighter she gripped, the more he— she— both of them slipped away.

Ayrenn opened her eyes. 

Oh. That conversation with Naemon was overdue. Speaking of her brother, where was he now? Wasn’t he—

_I was dreaming._

She touched her face, and found it already wet. No. No, wasn’t she just—?

_Naemon’s dead._

Naemon was gone. And she was still here. Her little brother—

She covered her mouth as she tried to choke down her sobs, yet the tears, the pain, the grief, did not yield.

**Author's Note:**

> In memory of my older sister.


End file.
